


where you gonna run when you get to the edge of the night? (it’s time you faced the sky)

by stardustgirl



Series: you breathe like your lungs aren't full of matches [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Bloodbending (Avatar), Feelstember, Feelstember 2020, Firelord Iroh (Avatar), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He's oblivious to the fact that people care about him :(, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Light Angst, Loss of Bending Ability, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Past Child Abuse, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Prompt Fill, Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko and his Breaking and Entering Saga Continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Zuko hears rumors of the war’s end and, it seems, there’s only one way to verify them.(Prompt fill for “Broken” for Feelstember.)
Relationships: Cabbage Man & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: you breathe like your lungs aren't full of matches [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842490
Comments: 12
Kudos: 241
Collections: Feelstember 2020





	where you gonna run when you get to the edge of the night? (it’s time you faced the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so first things first: there is going to be at LEAST one more fic between this one and the last (chronologically) in the series (which will cover the referenced ba sing se stuff), BUT that fic is ,, not fluffy ,, at all lol sooo I didn’t include it for now bc it’s ~ Feelstember ~ lol
> 
> TW: Referenced/Hypothetical Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Victim Self-blaming

After Ba Sing Se, Zuko, on his rare trips into town—they are few and far between; even with his hood shadowing his face and his hair grown longer than it’s been since he spoke out of turn before Agni’s Chosen Himself, he still gets recognized on occasion—often hears news. Several months after he last sees the earthbender and the Water Tribe boy—he knew their names, at one point, but somehow he thinks that Hama managed to take that alongside his bending—he begins to hear news of a different sort.

Whisperings.

“I heard that when the comet came….”

“...you don’t understand, though, there was a whole _fleet_ of airships that….”

“...said that he said that it’s his _brother_ who’s in the palace, calling himself Fire Lord now—“

He turns abruptly, unable to ignore the mindless chatter any longer. “What did you say?” he demands, staring directly at the merchant. The man shrugs.

“I was just saying what everybody _else_ has been saying for a couple of weeks now, that it’s General Iroh who’s saying he’s the Fire Lord now—“

“What happened to F– to Ozai?”

The merchant shrugs again. “Everyone’s been saying that pesky Avatar kid took him out. No one knows where the Fire Lord went, so he must be dead, and there hasn’t been anything official yet.”

“What about Azula? The– the princess—?”

A woman from nearby, the one the merchant must have been speaking to, pipes up. “Word on the street is the stress of the crown was too much for her, and she went...you know….” She circles her finger beside her head, and Zuko swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. For a moment, the damp stone corridors of Ba Sing Se are back around him again, and he’s unable to tell the time or the day or his name. He swallows again, forcing himself back into the present, into the open, unfettered air of the town. _You’re okay here._

“Has anyone heard…?”

“No, nothing’s come out of the palace in a few weeks. If you really want to know, you’d be better off just heading there yourself,” the merchant says, laughing. Zuko nods, solemn.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, kid. You looking to buy any cabbages?”

“Um, no, not right now, uh, sorry.” He nods awkwardly, backing away as the man scowls.

“Next time you wanna waste somebody’s time, bother a different cabbage seller!”

Zuko just nods in acknowledgement and slips away, letting the crowded streets envelop him once more.

* * *

It’s a five day journey—three and a half days on foot, and another day and a half stowing away on a warship—from Yu Dao to the Fire Nation’s capital, and the journey gives him plenty of time to think. By the time the ship arrives, Agni’s forsaken has a plan in place.

Zuko dons armor, a uniform, and a helmet, all nicked from one of the bunks—good luck to whatever soldier has to explain _that_ one to their captain—and slips into the city with the rest of them. He slips away again as they head for the barracks, and finds himself in the lava tunnels running below the city within minutes.

He finds the one that leads to the Fire Lord’s rooms—and then stops. Thinks. Would Iroh really take Ozai’s old quarters? Especially if Fa— _Ozai_ is still alive.

The answer is no, no he would not.

And so, Zuko turns, and heads for the rooms his uncle used to keep.

He reaches them far too soon, and settles in to wait in a seiza just inside the bedroom. He keeps the door of the sitting room ajar just enough for him to see when Iroh returns.

His legs have almost fallen asleep by the time the exterior door creaks open, and Zuko shifts just enough to wake himself up more. He tells himself he’ll take whatever punishment Iroh doles out, he’ll allow whatever pain he needs to endure because he’s done everything Iroh told him _not_ to do and he deserves whatever Iroh decides he does. And none of that is even _touching_ on the fact that he has forsaken his role as a child of Agni, that he has forsaken the very god who brought him here— _the very one that cursed you,_ the other part of him, the part he thought he left with Hama and then once more with the Dai Li, reminds himself—that he has forsaken every part of the culture that raised him in an attempt to build himself a life out of the ruins of his country’s victims.

And then the door to the bedroom creaks open.

“Uncle,” he begins, inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

Zuko spills his soul out to Iroh amidst repeated apologies, tells him of how he had tried to do the right thing, gone to his father and denounced him and his actions, searched for Iroh in the dungeons, asked to join the Avatar’s team. He tells him of how he was rejected and, upon that decision, turned to the rumors in the south. He tells him about kneeling before the bloodbender, about pouring his wounds before her so she could spread salt across them even as she removed his fangs. He cries when he tells him of how he was cast aside like the traitor he is, of how he was stolen away to Ba Sing Se and barely made it out with his life, and he barely holds off from begging Iroh: _please._

_Hurt me quickly and get it over with, if that’s what you’ll do._

Instead, Iroh is silent for a long, long moment, and Zuko fears the worst. Unable to help himself, he looks up, tears streaming down his face.

The Fire Lord falls to his knees, and he pulls Zuko into a tight hug.

“How– how are you not– shouldn’t you be _angry_ with me? _Furious_ that I disobeyed every piece of advice you ever gave me—”

“I would _never,_ I _could_ never be angry at you, Zuko. I was only worried that you had lost sight of what is right. Or that you had….”

Zuko swallows, hard. “I did,” he whispers. “I _did_ lose sight of the right path. And...and of myself.”

“But you found yourself again, yes?” Zuko nods, still crying silently, though now it’s at the miracle of his forgiveness. The corners of Iroh’s— _Uncle’s—_ eyes crinkle as he smiles. “And now, you have come home.”

 _Home._ He tries it aloud, finds that the word isn’t as bitter as he remembers. And smiles.

“Uncle…” he begins haltingly, pulling away from the embrace just enough to swipe at the tears, “the Avatar...people are saying that he killed Father...?”

Uncle’s expression falters just enough to be noticeable, the way it always does when Zuko calls Ozai “Father.” He returns to the same kind, gentle smile as usual within moments, however. “No, Aang did not kill my brother. Though he did defeat him, yes.”

“But how did he stop him if—”

“There are more ways to defeat someone than death, yes? I believe you know that better than most, Nephew.” Zuko nods, biting his lip. He does.

“Ozai is imprisoned. Your sister—”

“Is she okay? Did– was Azula killed?”

Uncle raises a hand, halting the flow of questions before it’s hardly begun. “One at a time, Prince Zuko. Azula has been sent to heal….”

The rest of Uncle’s words fade away in light of the title: _Prince._

It’s been a long while since he was the prince of _anything._ Clearly, however, that makes no difference to his uncle. He needs to point out something, though, something _imperative._

“Uncle?” Zuko interrupts, swallowing hard. “You...you know I can’t firebend anymore, right? That I– that I gave up Agni and the gift I was given because I was...because I gave up?”

Uncle nods, brow furrowed. “Yes, Prince Zuko. You mentioned this before. I am not _that_ senile, at least not yet!” he adds with a laugh.

“But then why...why do you still keep calling me…?”

His uncle rests his hands gently on Zuko’s shoulders. “Because you _are_ a prince, Zuko, no matter what you can or cannot do with fire. The wills and whims of the wind have no bearing on the roots of a tree, on that which is _within._ ”

For once, the proverb makes sense. And for the second time that day, Zuko begins to cry again, and closes the distance between him and his uncle once more.

“Thank you,” he whispers.


End file.
